


More Than a Brief Glimpse

by Just_Another_Day



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Auguste (Captive Prince) Lives, Doses of Teenage Angst, Embarrassment, First Crush, Fluff, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Virginity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-28
Updated: 2019-03-02
Packaged: 2019-11-06 22:34:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17948396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Just_Another_Day/pseuds/Just_Another_Day
Summary: Everyone always looked at Laurent, even though he'd often really prefer them not to. So of course Laurent noticed the one person who barely seemed to see him at all.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm taking a hopefully-very-short break from the angst of Seasonal Changes to write some straight-up fluff that's a month overdue. This is for a rarepair tumblr request asking for Laurent/Berenger.
> 
> I'd prefer to believe that the Regent never even existed in this verse, but if you'd rather believe that at some stage he tripped and fatally fell onto something pointy, I also approve of that. Either way, imo no Regent equals no dead Hennike equals no war over Delfeur/Delpha, so you get this soft fluff. And you also get Laurent as a disaster gay who hasn't even slightly sorted himself out, because I love him.

"It's rather late in the day to be heading down to the stables now, isn't it?" Mother remarked when she and Auguste saw Laurent about to slip out through the front entrance. She didn't seem to feel there was any doubt about Laurent's intended destination once he made it out of the palace walls. She was right. "The sun is practically down already, and dinner will be served in half an hour. Hardly optimal conditions for taking your horse out for a ride. In fact, this is about the time when anyone who _was_ out riding would be returning to the palace, I should think."

She knew, Laurent thought. In fact, Laurent thought it likely that she'd purposely staged this run-in just so that she could accost him about this. She might have feigned surprise to see him, but Laurent would bet that she'd known in advance that he would be here and had planned accordingly. Why else would she have been having a private conversation with Auguste here of all places rather than in the royal wing, or the library, or any number of other more suitable places?

This was Mother. Of course she would have seen through him. Laurent was convinced that nothing happened in the entire palace without the Queen of Vere being at least peripherally aware of it, and she had extra incentive to keep track of her sons in particular.

Auguste didn't seem to be equally aware of the subtext. He simply laughed guilelessly at Mother's comment. "Since when has Laurent needed the excuse of actually going for a ride to spend every available moment with his beloved horses? I swear he would even try to sleep out there with them if it wouldn't end with the servants literally dragging him back inside the palace in the middle of the night on Father's orders."

"Well who could blame me for wanting to spend my time there?" asked Laurent, probably a little too defensively. "After all, it's better than having to attend pointless 'entertainments' with courtiers and pets fawning over me all night."

"I suppose you prefer the company in the stables," Mother said archly.

Auguste probably thought that she was talking about the horses. Laurent doubted that was the case.

"I'm sure you'll appreciate some of the attention one day," Auguste assured him, as though Laurent wasn't by now of an age where people were starting to wonder why he hadn't yet taken on a pet (or five, if he followed Auguste's lead in that respect).

When Laurent eventually made haste down to the stables, it wasn't because he was fleeing his mother's too-sharp gaze at first opportunity (or not _entirely_ for that reason, anyway), but because he hadn't factored in the time being waylaid by his family would take up in his plans.

When he made it to the stables, there was thankfully no one but an assortment of stablehands and a single cleaning servant milling around in the vicinity even though Laurent was running a little late. Good; Laurent hadn't missed his chance. Laurent quickly waved the servants away to indicate that he didn't need their assistance. He wasn't here for anything that they could help him with, and they would only draw unwanted attention to his presence.

Laurent was busying himself brushing his horse's mane when he heard the servants reacting to someone else approaching. Laurent eagerly shifted closer to the stall door to give himself the perfect vantage to look out of the stall into the main area. His horse followed so that Laurent would continue his brushing, even though his attention was now decidedly split.

There was nothing objectively eye-catching about Lord Berenger normally, especially not when he was at court in a crowd peppered with pets who were draped in distractingly sparkling signs of wealth. Eyes didn't gravitate towards him the way they (unfortunately) did to Laurent. Laurent had noticed him even so, though, when he'd spotted Berenger riding towards and into the stables on his horse a couple of weeks ago, just as Berenger was doing again now. Laurent had noticed the animal first. But then Laurent's attention had drifted from horse to rider and unexpectedly remained there. The way Berenger moved with his horse was so natural that to Laurent it appeared more graceful than even the most elaborate of the pet dances he'd ever witnessed. Laurent had made a point of seeing it again, and again, and had yet to get tired watching.

Laurent had even managed to watch Berenger while he was actually out on his rides once or twice. He looked even better when he pushed his horse past a trot. Part of Laurent wanted to challenge Berenger to a race the way he and Auguste had used to do all the time, before Father had started monopolising more of Auguste's time to prepare him for the day he'd have to take over as King. The rest of Laurent's brain was mortified at the idea of approaching Berenger like that when Berenger had so far paid Laurent no more attention than the brief obeisance required for the spare heir. With anyone else Laurent wouldn't have needed to worry that his attention might be unwelcome, but Berenger was different.

That difference was at least part of why Laurent couldn't stop thinking about him lately.

It had unfortunately proven nearly impossible for Laurent to continue observing Berenger out riding on the mostly open plains around the periphery of Arles without giving himself away. In much the same way, it had proven too difficult trying to covertly study Berenger when he was curled up with a book (which was often, for he seemed to love to read almost as much as Laurent) in the otherwise-empty library. So Laurent had quickly realised that the only way to admire Berenger unabashedly, without being limited to quick glances that really weren't enough or having his notice be remarked upon, was from the shadows of the stable stalls.

Laurent was now able to observe as Berenger chattered amiably to the servants who'd moved to attend to him and the animal as he dismounted, as though he didn't think the stablehands were too far below him in class to be acknowledged the way many of the other Lords and Ladies clearly believed they were. Also unlike the others, Berenger didn't just throw the reins carelessly to the servants and saunter back to the palace without even bothering to spare the horse a second glance. Instead, he took the time to rub his palm over her long neck, his touch obviously gentle. Laurent couldn't hear his words from this distance, but he could see Berenger's lips moving, and so knew that he must have been saying something softly into the horse's ear. The horse whickered, and Berenger laughed fondly as if she had actually answered him.

Laurent's heart really shouldn't have been racing. Not from something so utterly innocent and casual. But somehow it seemed to Laurent that what he was privy to in these moments was more intimate in a way than any of the sex he'd watched in the ring or the gardens. Laurent witnessed an easy openness that he never saw from anyone at court on these days (nearly every day) when he just _happened_ to be in the stables at the same time as Berenger's unwavering and absurdly simple-to-figure-out schedule just _happened_ to have him returning from his afternoon ride.

When Berenger had apparently shown his horse enough affection for his own satisfaction, he gave his horse a soft nudge to the hindquarters to send her off with the stablehand. Once he'd watched her be directed away to have her tack removed and be brushed down, Berenger turned on the heel of his riding boots. He walked out of the stables in a direction that, as usual, took him past the stall in which Laurent was supposedly seeing to his own horse.

At this point, Laurent would usually press himself to the wood away from the stall door to hide himself as Berenger passed. But this time his horse had shuffled into his path, so he was a little too slow to navigate around her.

Their eyes met. There was a flash of recognition from Berenger, and of something else as well. Laurent thought that it might have been surprise, or curiosity, likely prompted by the 'unlikely' sight of the Prince tending to a horse himself rather than just having someone else do it for him.

It was the first time Berenger had looked at Laurent with anything at all other than distant respectfulness. And his expression looked almost like... _interest_ , of a type.

Laurent felt heat creeping over his face.

He abruptly turned his back to Berenger so that he wouldn't give himself away so obviously. He went back to brushing his horse, probably doing so a little more vigorously than was probably necessary in his desire to look busy. Laurent managed to resist actually hiding his face in the horse's neck, but he did make sure not to turn back around to show his face again until well after he'd heard Berenger's footsteps retreating away.

Laurent hadn't been at all prepared for it to go like that. He'd thought through a range of potential ways in which he might approach Berenger over the past couple of weeks. None of them had ever seemed quite right considering that Laurent didn't think _any_ kind of advance would be welcomed by this particular man, and when Laurent had been worried that if Berenger _did_ show any interest it would only be because he felt compelled to accept Laurent's attentions due to Laurent's position. But Laurent had at least been in control of the situation in all of those prospective scenarios. He hadn't been in control this evening. So it had gone so much worse than any of those attempts could have, surely.

And now Berenger probably thought Laurent was too rude or too proud to want to interact with him even if Laurent did ever figure out a good way to approach him.

Wasn't that just _perfect_.


	2. Chapter 2

"Darling, if you're going to pine, then at least try to be less obvious about it."

" _Mother_ ," Laurent said, exasperated, while Auguste half-choked on his sudden peal of laughter. 

Before Auguste could actually comment or ask exactly who it was that Laurent might be 'pining' over, Mother's attention turned slowly to him, taking in his amusement. Slyly, she said, "Though at least you're not as bad as your brother was with his first infatuation. You'd have been too young to remember, but Auguste was affectionately known as the 'Babbling Prince' for months on end when he was about thirteen because we couldn't get anything remotely sensible out of him whenever Lady Vannes was around." 

"Didn't we collectively agree to never mention that again?" Auguste asked, no longer laughing.

Mother's answering smile was enigmatic.

To Laurent, she added, "At least _you_ didn't manage to pick someone whose interest in your entire gender is close to non-existent, whatever the less observant courtiers might speculate about the poor young man. So chin up, my dear. I'm sure it will all work out."

Laurent had to admit that that cheered him up a little. Mother was surprisingly good at that, when she wanted to be. Just as she was exceptionally talented at making sure her sons had every possible opportunity to succeed in their pursuits.

So honestly, Laurent really should have expected what happened at dinner.

A seat at the banquet table beside the Crown Prince wasn't considered to be on the same level of political opportunity as being granted that same type of proximity and access to the King, but it was still the sort of thing that courtiers actively lobbied for. Sometimes they even grew jealous about it when they felt someone was being 'unfairly' preferred over them. Especially now, when the King was admittedly starting to look his age and people were beginning to more openly discuss the idea of Auguste's impending rule. Every aristocrat wanted the future King to have a favourable impression of them that they might one day be able to leverage. Laurent knew that was just how things worked in Arles.

Securing a seat beside the younger Prince tended to attract even higher levels of envy, though for a very different reason that had nothing to do with politics. This despite how the general consensus seemed to be that Laurent's dinner 'companions' were chosen at random, because he never seemed to specifically favour any of them, and never treated them any differently afterwards (unless it was to treat them with higher levels of disdain).

Laurent knew that there was nothing random about the choices, for all that it might appear otherwise at first glance. Mother was the one who dictated the seating arrangements at the royal table, and she had spent years artfully manipulating most everything that happened in the palace. Mother never did anything without a very specific purpose in mind. That was particularly obvious tonight, when Laurent approached his seat and saw that Berenger was the one already seated in the one immediately to the right of it. 

Of course Mother would have decided to do something about it once she inevitably noticed that Laurent had suddenly stopped going down to the stables of an evening out of embarrassment, and how he was apparently now brooding over it. Though Laurent couldn't have said for sure whether Mother was making some genuine but potentially misguided attempt to help her son, or whether she was just hoping to amuse herself during an otherwise boring meal. It really could be either with her.

Berenger stood when he saw Laurent, bowing slightly in deference and greeting him with a quiet, "Your Highness."

"Lord Berenger," Laurent replied when he thought he had control of his voice enough that it wouldn't crack or otherwise betray him.

It was foolish to be nervous, Laurent told himself. It was just a meal, and just another Lord with whom Laurent had to make small talk for a few hours. Laurent should be perfectly capable of passing this meal much as he did all the others, only in this case with less need for Laurent to deflect both unwanted flirtations and 'accidental' brushes of hands and legs under the table. And maybe Laurent could even go some way towards mending the surely negative impression Berenger must have gotten from Laurent 'ignoring' him during their last encounter.

Assuming, that was, that Laurent could just hurry up and compose himself already. The silence stretched awkwardly, as if Laurent had entirely forgotten the skill of speaking.

Normally silence at the dinner table would actually have been welcome, considering that Laurent's dinner experiences usually involved people either endlessly bragging about themselves or burying Laurent under mounds of empty compliments, as if either of those things would appeal to him. Laurent had grown so accustomed to it that it was strangely bizarre not to have the man sitting beside him staring hungrily at him instead of the food. It was stranger still that this happened to be the one time when Laurent would _almost_ have welcomed a look like that. 

Berenger was the one who finally broke through the quiet between them. "Your brother has mentioned that you enjoy riding."

Berenger and Auguste were friends, more genuinely so than most of the hangers-on that swarmed around Auguste. That was yet another point in Berenger's favour as far as Laurent was concerned. So Auguste probably spoke more openly to Berenger, as his friend, than he did to most people outside their family. But it was still surprising to hear that Auguste volunteered information about Laurent like that. He couldn't deny that he was pleased with the idea that Auguste went out of his way to mention him.

And also pleased that Berenger apparently paid attention to what Auguste said about him.

"I'm surprised that I've only seen you down at the stables the once," Berenger continued. "I expected to see you out putting your horse through her paces at some point. Especially since Prince Auguste implied that the reason you can rarely be found inside the palace except at the official events in the evenings is probably that you're slipping away to spend much of your time with the horses instead."

Laurent carefully didn't freeze in place in his panic, though it was a near thing. 

Surely Auguste hadn't gone so far as to specifically tell Berenger that Laurent had been disappearing down to the stables every evening before dinner. Even from a distance, Laurent had been able to deduce that Berenger was an intelligent man; he would be capable of figuring out that Laurent's pattern reflected his own routine, and realising what Laurent must have been doing.

"I might spend some time down there, yes. The stables are one of the few places where there's any measure of privacy lately, since the palace has been descended upon by a swarm of aristocrats," Laurent said, trying to provide an alternative explanation that might be believable. It wasn't even really a lie. Though after a moment, Laurent realised that it actually sounded like he was saying he resented the presence of _all_ the visiting aristocrats, which would necessarily include Berenger himself. Laurent was used to being able to choose exactly the right thing to say. It was ridiculous that one relatively ordinary man could affect him like this.

Berenger, however, only chuckled, apparently not offended in the least. "Understandable. Personally I've been going riding every day for much the same reason. And retreating to the library as well. I haven't seen you there either, for all that Prince Auguste says you're an avid reader."

"Does Auguste really talk about me that much?"

"Why wouldn't he?" Berenger asked.

Laurent wasn't quite certain how to interpret that.

"Though it's true I might have encouraged him," said Berenger. "Listening to Prince Auguste's stories is infinitely preferable compared to hearing some of the other courtiers talk, as I'm sure you're far too aware. The point of coming to court might be to interact with and make necessary connections with other Lords and Ladies, but they can get to be a little much."

"I was under the impression that the point of coming to court was more to do with being seen," Laurent remarked.

"Not for me. I'm not particularly interested in showing off."

Laurent had gotten that impression about him, yes.

"Is that why you didn't bother to bring a pet to court?" Laurent asked, trying to sound as if he didn't actually care about the answer.

"None of the pets I've met so far have managed to catch my interest. I think I'd much prefer to spend my time with someone who could share my interests. Someone who might enjoy going riding with me, and with whom I could debate the merits of the old Artesian philosophers, and with a similar appreciation of prose from authors like Isagoras. And preferably someone who was independent and didn't rely on or fawn over me the way that most pets seem to do with their masters as well. Such men seem to be in short supply."

That sounded like someone that would appeal to Laurent as well. He didn't say as much so blatantly, but he did say, "Isagoras is one of my favourites."

Berenger's stare was oddly intent. "I know."

Laurent frowned. "Auguste told you that as well?" Why would that have come up in conversation?

"He did. When I asked."

Wait. 

It occurred to Laurent that Berenger hadn't just been describing preferences that might be similar to what little Laurent understood about his own. He'd also been describing Laurent himself.

The whole banquet hall bore witness to Laurent's face turning horribly red. The gossip would probably claim that Berenger had said something uncharacteristically scandalous to him.

Berenger seemed to be under a similar impression. "I apologise, Your Highness. I've overstepped and made you uncomfortable. I was hoping to avoid that. I didn't intend to be just another unwanted suitor pressing his interest on you before even really knowing you. I thought we might have the opportunity to become friends first. I didn't count on it being so hard to find you, let alone engage in meaningful conversation."

Which had only happened because Laurent had been determinedly remaining out of Berenger's sight so that Berenger wouldn't notice Laurent watching him. Laurent could hardly believe that he'd managed to accidentally undermine himself as badly as that.

"There will be a hunt at the end of the week," Laurent said. "Would you consider riding with me then?"

There wasn't any such thing organised, but Laurent would soon change that fact. 

Berenger looked oddly pained. "I'm due to leave at week's end. That's why I ended up rushing this more than I would have liked." 

Oh. 

Laurent hadn't thought to inquire into Berenger's plans. He'd just assumed that Berenger would stay several more weeks until the end of the season, along with the other courtiers. But Berenger had made it obvious that he'd come to Arles with a specific purpose in mind, and that likely didn't require him to hang around wasting time pretending interest in court performances now that he'd had time to conduct his business and be updated about the relevant current goings-on in the kingdom at large. It was a stupid oversight on Laurent's part. And now he'd waited too long.

"But I could extend my stay a few days," Berenger amended quickly. He'd probably seen Laurent's too-openly crestfallen look. "It would be my honour to ride with you."

The rest of the dinner passed mostly in silence, but now it was more because Laurent was too busy suppressing a foolish grin to actually open his mouth to speak than because he was too afraid of saying something that would expose him.

Father approved the hunt, but opted not to participate himself despite having always enjoyed hunting in the past. That was telling. An obvious indication that he wasn't feeling up to the task.

Auguste didn't seem to realise that, or the strangeness of the sudden request. Although… Auguste wasn't usually good at lying, but he also wasn't a fool, so Laurent did have to wonder if he might have been just putting on a brave face when his only response to the whole thing was a hearty, "A hunt sounds excellent! Why didn't I think of it?"

As anticipated, Mother's reaction to Laurent's sudden desire for a hunt was her lips tilting ever so slightly upwards. She probably thought Laurent was being too obvious about wanting an excuse to ride flank-to-flank with Berenger, and maybe even to show off a little if Laurent managed to make it to the mark first. She ran her fingers through Laurent's hair the way she always had when he'd done something she found amusing as a young boy. "A lovely idea, yes. And, of course, Laurent will need to spend even more time down in the stables preparing his horse in the lead-up to it. I'm sure he wants to make an impressive showing."

It was true that Laurent had intended to hopefully 'run into' Berenger down there, more than once if possible. And he would be sure to actually make his presence known to Berenger this time.

"Yes, thank you, Mother," Laurent said. It was only half-sarcastic. He _did_ have her to thank for forcing him into a position where his problem had to be confronted, after all.

Laurent counted the day of the hunt as highly successful, though more so for Laurent's personal purposes than for the large boar they secured, considering Laurent hadn't made the kill himself; that had been Auguste. Laurent had been a little too distracted during the ride to react quickly enough. It had been a worthy trade-off, in Laurent's opinion.

Berenger left Arles two days after that, departing early in the morning when most courtiers were still in bed sleeping off the excesses of the previous night. Their parting was still public enough, though, that Laurent opted to be careful of what he said in case they were overheard.

Or maybe that was just an excuse for the fact that Laurent didn't actually know what he was supposed to be saying in this situation.

"I wish I could have actually courted you," Berenger said. "That there had been time."

"There _is_ time. Do I seem like I'm in a hurry? I can write to you," Awkwardly, Laurent backtracked, "I mean… would you _like_ for me to write to you?"

"I'd enjoy that immensely, Your Highness." It sounded truthful, if a little too formal for Laurent's tastes.

"You can call me by my given name." People spoke to Laurent with far more familiarity than Laurent might wish for, but no one but his family did _that_. Hopefully Berenger would understand the meaning of the offer.

Berenger declined to immediately take him up on it. Perhaps they had to work up to that point. Instead, he wordlessly clasped Laurent's hand in both of his and bowed over it. It was perfectly respectful, but wasn't quite what Laurent wanted from him. Yet. Laurent imagined what it would have been like for Berenger to have instead brushed his lips over Laurent's knuckles and whispered Laurent's name. Just the thought made him shiver.

Apparently Berenger wasn't actually averse to using Laurent's name at this stage after all, for when Berenger's first letter arrived ten days after his departure from Arles, it was addressed to 'Dearest Laurent'.

Laurent was surprised (but grateful) that the sudden heating of his skin wasn't enough to ignite the parchment right then and there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These boys are honestly the dumbest nerds, someone please save them from themselves.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This last chapter fills the 'Virginity/Celibacy' square of my brand spanking new second Kink Bingo card. It also contains hints of praise kink, because as long as I'm still breathing I'm going to keep insisting that every Laurent in every verse has some kind of (hidden or otherwise) praise kink.

The proximity of Berenger's fort in Varenne allowed letters to be passed between there and Arles with ease. It was a rare week when Laurent didn't receive at least two missives labelled 'His Highness Prince Laurent' on the outside of the seal where anyone could see it, and with Berenger's precise handwriting addressing him as just 'Laurent' inside, for his eyes only. 

It was so much simpler to write to Berenger than to talk directly to him, Laurent had found. When Berenger was right in front of Laurent, it was a struggle to make the right words rise to his lips. On paper, though, with Berenger some hundred miles away, the ink flowed freely onto the page. And there was always the option of just throwing the draft on the fire and beginning again when Laurent's writing _did_ become too awkward and overexcited from time to time. 

Laurent similarly considered burning the evidence whenever his written words turned more caustic. Mother applauded his critical observations about some of the courtiers in particular, and Auguste laughed at Laurent's carefully barbed remarks as long as they didn't drift too far in the direction of cruelty, but Laurent was aware that most people didn't tend to appreciate Laurent's particular brand of honesty. Laurent might do better to guard his tongue if he didn't want to drive away a good-natured man like Berenger. But Laurent had opted to leave those things in the letters anyway; if Laurent had to moderate himself that way, then how would conversing with Berenger be different than the hours he spent forced to conceal any inkling of his true feelings from any of the other courtiers? 

So it was a relief that Laurent had so far never sensed that Berenger disliked any part of their written conversations, even when Laurent was maybe a little too sharp for comfort, or where Berenger clearly didn't personally share Laurent's perspective. Perhaps Laurent should have predicted that. Berenger _had_ said he enjoyed the idea of having someone with whom he could debate. And Berenger tended to be honest to a fault, much like Auguste.

By the time Berenger's letters turned to the topic of him returning to Arles for the season, almost a year had passed since the first letter. A year of Laurent thinking about the prospect almost endlessly and forcing himself to let Berenger be the one to bring it up. When he finally did, it was one of those times that Laurent had to burn his way through quite a few letter drafts before he managed to produce a response that wasn't too far too embarrassing to actually send.

Laurent let himself imagine Berenger staying at court for the full season, and them not wasting any of it on foolish misunderstandings like last time. 

But then, only a day before Berenger had been scheduled to arrive, Laurent's messenger delivered him another letter. 

_By the time you receive this,_ the letter said, _I'm sure there will already be courtiers arriving at the palace. I had intended to be among them._

Laurent's throat tightened. It sounded like the beginning of an excuse. One Laurent didn't particularly want to hear.

_Unfortunately, a problem with one of the horses has pushed back my departure. Barring further complications, I expect to arrive in Arles at the beginning of next week instead. I apologise for making the wait even longer._

Laurent breathed more freely. That was unfortunate, but entirely understandable. Berenger wasn't the type to prioritise a few extra days at Arles over the well-being of his horse, and Laurent wouldn't want him to do so either. And the important thing was that Berenger would still come, if a little late. Laurent would still see him soon enough. He could wait a few more days.

_Though I might be flattering myself without cause to think that you might be disappointed at the delay,_ Berenger had added. Laurent could practically hear his self-effacing tone even though it had been nearly a year since Laurent had heard Berenger's voice at all.

For the first several months, Berenger's letters had always been phrased in a way that suggested that he would half-expect it – and would completely understand – if Laurent chose to stop writing, or if Laurent instead included the details of a love affair with someone else in his next letter. It was clear that Berenger hadn't been convinced that he would be sufficient to hold Laurent's interest from a distance. Those implications had seemed to disappear from the later letters, but apparently they weren't gone entirely from Berenger's mind if his uncertainty that Laurent wouldn't miss him in his continued absence was an indication.

Laurent understood that well enough. People had only ever been interested in _him_ because of how he looked, not because of the thoughts he'd been inscribing into paper for Berenger to read. So he too had wondered whether Berenger would lose all regard for him once Laurent was out of sight.

A year was long enough to convince Laurent otherwise. Laurent was, in fact, had grown considerably fonder of Berenger than he'd been when all he'd known of him had been what he could gather from distant observation, and he hoped the same could be said of Berenger's feelings for Laurent in return. Berenger was, if anything, actually underestimating Laurent's desire to finally see him in person again. Being restricted to writing alone might have allowed Laurent to mostly avoid making a fool of himself the way he knew he probably would in person, but the distance was also limiting in less positive ways as well. Laurent would readily accept a little embarrassment in exchange for the potential benefits of finally having Berenger within reach again, now that Laurent was more convinced of exactly what he wanted from the other man.

On the first day of the week, Laurent spent the whole day expectantly in the stables. A few other aristocrats who'd been delayed or planned to arrive 'fashionably' after their peers arrived throughout the day in carriages or on horseback. The stablehands bustled around, going about their business of attending to the horses, in between the new arrivals. Laurent more or less ignored all of them. There was only one person whose company he was interested in. 

Night fell without any sign of Berenger. Laurent couldn't deny his disappointment, but although Berenger had said the start of the week, that didn't necessarily mean the first day of the week. It was hardly a broken promise. And Berenger would hardly have expected Laurent to waste his whole day waiting around for him like an obsessive fool.

That didn't stop Laurent from heading down to the stables again in the morning, prepared to do it all over again, even though he knew that he might just end up being disappointed a second time. 

But Laurent wasn't disappointed. He didn't even have to wait this time. Berenger was already there when Laurent arrived. 

Even from hundreds of yards away, Laurent found it easy to spot Berenger. His horse and his servants were nowhere in sight, suggesting that he'd already dealt with the practicalities of his arrival and then wandered off for a respite before making his way to the palace. Now he was milling around in garden beside the stables, bending over occasionally as if to intently study the pristine flowers. As the first impression of Arles that most arriving guests saw apart from the palace's opulent facade, the gardens adjoining the stables were meticulously curated and cared for. So Laurent reminded himself that Berenger could hardly be denounced for stopping to admire them for a few minutes rather than heading immediately to the palace to look for Laurent.

The morning air in the garden when Laurent reached them was flavoured with the scent of almost-blooming flowers and punctuated by the soft sounds of the neighbouring horses in their pens and stalls. The horse noises must have muffled the quiet crunch of Laurent's boots in the dirt, for Berenger didn't notice Laurent approaching from behind him.

Berenger startled when he spotted Laurent as he turned around. In his surprise, Laurent thought for a moment that Berenger might inadvertently crush the flower that Laurent could see Berenger had plucked from the bush. But it remained unharmed, looking tiny where it was cradled in Berenger's hands.

Berenger said softly, "Laurent."

Whatever irritation Laurent might have been feeling at being kept waiting evaporated at hearing his name on Berenger's lips, sounding so much more profound than when it was in writing. Whatever Laurent might have said in response was stolen away from him by hearing that and seeing Berenger's warm brown eyes focus on him.

The few beats of silence seemed to be long enough for Berenger to remember the flower. He held out the delicate unopened bud as though presenting it for Laurent's inspection, obviously an offer.

Laurent continued to struggle for words for a moment, before he settled on telling himself to just picture that he was composing a letter of what he wanted to say rather than speaking it directly to Berenger. It made it a little easier. But only a little.

"What's that supposed to be?" Laurent asked.

"A flower."

A small laugh pushed free of Laurent's lips. "You don't say. I'd never have guessed."

"If you instead were asking what I mean by giving it to you, I think you've guessed that as well," said Berenger. "I can't be the first man to have offered you flowers."

"You're certainly the first to offer me a single unopened bud," Laurent countered. "You should have left it on the plant. Now it will die before it can blossom."

"Not necessarily. When I was young, my mother used to like having freshly cut flowers brought to her at least once a week. The buds were sometimes stubborn, and needed a little more care, but they still opened as long as they were treated well, and weren't forced…" Berenger reached up, hesitating just slightly to give Laurent a moment to pull away if he wanted to, before threading the stem behind Laurent's ear, leaving the flower in Laurent's hair almost like a pet's accessory, though Laurent doubted that it was at all Berenger's intent to treat him like one of those pampered boys. "And even if this one doesn't, bloom, it's still beautiful exactly as it is right now."

Laurent was for once able to mostly fight back the pinkness that wanted to flood his cheeks. "I've never heard anything so sentimental in all my life."

"Well, I never claimed I could write respectable poetry just because I read so much of it."

"I don't need poetry or flowers," Laurent said. He didn't elaborate on what he _did_ need, or want, instead. He thought that the press of his lips against Berenger's detailed that well enough.

Berenger's arms were slow to wrap around Laurent, as if he were in shock. He couldn't have been entirely surprised. He must have suspected that it would go something like this. Laurent had never written as much outright, unsure how to put it into words without sounding childish or overwrought, but the sentiment underlying the exchange of letters had been obvious nonetheless. Berenger must have known how Laurent wanted him, just as Laurent was certain that his feelings were returned.

When Laurent relinquished Berenger's mouth, shifting to Berenger's jawline so that he could leave a string of light kisses there, Berenger said quietly, his hot breath brushing over Laurent's cheek, "There's no need to rush."

Laurent hummed without stopping. A year's worth of waiting could hardly be considered rushing. And even if it were, Laurent wanted to. He demonstrated as much by brushing his fingers over the laces of Berenger's trousers, plucking at them. But Berenger caught Laurent's wrist and pulled away from him slightly.

It was obvious that Laurent wasn't the only one who was feeling impatient. Berenger might not overtly regard Laurent in quite the same way that Laurent was accustomed to being viewed – most men looked at him in a way that made it clear that all they cared about was bending Laurent over naked on a set of crisp bedsheets, or maybe just pushing Laurent to his knees to 'service' them while their peers watched on resentfully – but it was still clear in Berenger's expression that he _did_ want Laurent that way, and that he wanted it right now. Yet he still said, "Not like this."

"Why not?"

"I know I'd be considered strange at court for saying it, but I'm really not one for an audience."

Laurent had seen so many public performances of sex that it hadn't really occurred to him to be bothered that they were out in the open for anyone to happen upon. It wasn't something he cared about, especially when the court would eventually hear the gossip about it one way or another anyway. The only difference was that this way there would likely be more actual truth to the rumours. But the last thing Laurent wanted was for Berenger to be uncomfortable. 

"I don't think the horses count. But I can send the servants away and we can have the inside of the stables to ourselves, if you prefer."

"We've waited for more or less an entire year. I think we can manage ten more minutes to get inside." Laurent would have protested, but Berenger effectively made his case stick by further pointing out, "I can't imagine that loose straw makes for a particularly comfortable bed."

Laurent supposed that was a good point. Laurent might not appreciate having to climb three flights of stairs and wind through the hallways, ducking around guards and clusters of courtiers, when he could otherwise have already had Berenger pressing against him, but the mattress that he eventually pulled Berenger down onto was certainly infinitely more welcoming than any surface they might have pressed up against in or around the stables. And there were other useful things in Laurent's rooms that might not be found in the stables as well.

When Laurent reached for Berenger's laces again, Berenger didn't stop him this time. Though Berenger did carefully extricate the flower from behind Laurent's ear before he started on Laurent's clothing in turn. Berenger set the bud to the side, probably to preserve it from being spoiled. Ironic considering the metaphor Berenger had constructed around it and what they were about to do, if Laurent had any say.

Trousers laces were always simple and quick to undo, by design. Jackets and shirtsleeves and the like, on the other hand, usually required a servant's assistance, or a practised pet's, to remove. So Laurent was prepared to have to fight to get most of Berenger's clothing loose, unused to having to perform such a task himself. He needn't have worried, though. Berenger's clothing was more simply-designed than Laurent's own, and the laces weren't as complexly woven, purely functional where Laurent's were more decorative. Berenger had to spend a little more time getting Laurent undressed because of that. Laurent didn't make it any easier on him, capturing his lips once more and distracting him once Laurent had finished with his own task of seeing to Berenger's laces. Berenger's fingers continued their work, but he did end up fumbling and blindly groping for Laurent's other laces where otherwise he might have dispatched of them more easily. Eventually, laughing at the obvious game that Laurent had made of it, Berenger pushed Laurent gently away so that he could pull Laurent's shirt over his head and off. Berenger's own shirt followed.

Berenger's chest and shoulders were a little broader in build than Laurent's, but the muscles there were less defined. The difference clearly was a result of Laurent having been made to spend years training with the royal weapons masters, and then more recently grabbing opportunities to duel with Auguste when his brother wasn't being pulled away by his obligations. Berenger, by comparison, would have had little need to prepare for the constant vaguely-lurking prospect of war, and it showed in his muscle tone. But Berenger's thighs, once the trousers were peeled off, were a very different matter. Frequent riding, and having such excellent form in a saddle, had done him many favours, Laurent thought, staring openly when Berenger turned around enough to show off the now-naked curve of his ass.

Berenger was equally open about his appreciation of Laurent's body as it was fully unveiled. His eyes kept straying to Laurent's half-hard cock in particular. 

"Do you have anything we can use?" Berenger asked. "Oil, or something similar?"

Berenger must not be aware of how many nights Laurent had spent lazily stroking himself to thoughts of finally having Berenger press him into this exact bed if he really thought it was at all necessary to ask that question.

Laurent reached past Berenger, practically rubbing cheeks with him as he half-straddled Berenger's body, to retrieve the stoppered glass bottle half-filled with oil. He made to hand the bottle over, but Berenger shook his head, indicating for Laurent to spill some of the liquid onto his own fingers instead. Perhaps he wanted Laurent to make a show of preparing himself. Or so Laurent thought right up until Berenger directed Laurent's coated fingers between Berenger's own thighs.

Laurent hadn't been expecting that. Laurent might be higher in rank, but Berenger was older and, according to the recollections he'd shared of his youth, had at least _some_ experience compared with Laurent's complete lack of it, having had pets when he was around Laurent's age and even younger. And no one who Laurent ever overheard talking about Laurent that way ever seemed particularly interested in discussing the prospect of Laurent being the one bending someone else over, as if they couldn't imagine it happening. So Laurent had just assumed that Berenger would feel the same. That was what Laurent had prepared himself for, pressing his fingers into himself late at night, stretching, getting used to the feeling enough that he'd hoped he'd be able to avoid making a big deal of it when the time came.

Laurent certainly hadn't practised anything that could prepare him for taking on the role Berenger seemed to be suggesting instead, though. He felt thoroughly unprepared. Laurent might have seen all sorts of things at court, and made a point of reading up _extensively_ on the topic, but he was aware that that hardly made him proficient in the absence of actual experience and muscle memory. It was the same as how watching Auguste demonstrating his own expertise in the training salles for hours on end when Laurent had been a boy hadn't been enough on its own for Laurent to develop his own skill with a sword. Only actual practice had taught him how to properly wield his weapon.

Laurent thought of insisting they do things the other way. He didn't want to disappoint Berenger with his lack of skill. Or worse, to hurt him.

But Berenger kept regarding Laurent's cock with such single-minded focus. As if that was what he specifically wanted, Laurent realised now. So maybe refusing would be the bigger disappointment to him.

Unsure, Laurent admitted, "I've never… I mean, I don't know…"

It wasn't like that would be any kind of a revelation to Berenger. People halfway across the country who'd never even been in the same county as Laurent were probably aware that Laurent was still a virgin. That was how travel of gossip tended to work in Vere.

"Do you think I mind?" Berenger asked. "That would be hypocritical of me, considering my experience isn't that much more extensive than yours, especially recently. And I'm convinced that you're more than intelligent enough to figure it out as you go."

Just about the last thing that Laurent had expected when his body was entirely naked and on display was to be getting complimented on his _mind_. Even if Laurent hadn't already been sure that he'd chosen well with Berenger, that would have convinced him. And it had the surely-intended effect of bolstering Laurent's confidence a fraction, enough that he was willing to try to give Berenger what he wanted. And what Laurent wanted too, now that he was letting himself imagine it.

Laurent's biggest concern was that he wouldn't know if he was doing it right (or, conversely, _very wrong_ ). But for a usually-quiet man, Berenger was surprisingly vocal, letting Laurent know exactly when and how he liked a certain thing. Laurent suspected he might have been doing it on purpose, reminding himself to keep talking, knowing Laurent well enough by now to be aware that Laurent would prefer not to be left to guess these things. Not to mention how Berenger doubtless picked up on how when he said things like, "Just there, oh, you're so good at that," it made Laurent react to an unexpected extent, and do whatever it took to get Berenger to tell him how well he was doing again. 

So by the time Laurent eventually pushed his cock inside Berenger, it was inexorably slow more because Laurent was worried he was going to end it far too early otherwise than because he still feared that he wouldn't know if Berenger was uncomfortable. And even though Berenger had actually lapsed momentarily into silence as Laurent entered, his small gasps continued to speak eloquently for him, as did the way he grasped at Laurent's hips.

"Please," Berenger said when Laurent apparently drew the process out a little too long. "You can fuck me, Your Highness."

Laurent let out a surprised sound, half a moan. He'd thought having Berenger call him simply by his given name was the height of intimacy in that respect, but Berenger calling him by his title _like this_ was unexpectedly arousing. And the fact that Berenger felt able to take such liberties with him was undeniably pleasing as well.

It was no surprise, between his inexperience and Berenger managing to uncover these little additional things that only made Laurent's blood run hotter, that Laurent didn't last long. Berenger held him through it, whispering words of praise into his ear even though Laurent knew he hadn't been brought to his own climax along with Laurent.

The moment Laurent had managed to catch his breath, he moved to distract Berenger from his shortcomings (though Berenger made it clear that he didn't think Laurent's performance had been bad). At least it gave Laurent the opportunity to demonstrate something that he actually thought that he _did_ have a little skill in, for it was simple enough in the palace to acquire any number of substitute objects to slip between his lips and practice on his own. Berenger seemed to appreciate Laurent's efforts, and made sure he knew it, clutching helplessly at Laurent's hair as Laurent licked up the length of him before closing his lips around the tip. 

Berenger didn't leave Laurent's rooms until just before dinner, and even then it was only so that he could get cleaned up and so they could arrive at the meal separately. 

Mother had apparently already been made aware that Berenger had shown up at the palace (and Laurent strongly doubted that was all that she knew about the circumstances of his arrival, unfortunately), for Berenger was assigned the seat beside Laurent at dinner. 

Before Laurent could take his own seat, Mother momentarily accosted him.

"I wasn't previously aware the stables had such an irresistibly amorous ambience," Mother commented. 

Laurent pressed his face into his hand, as if that would be enough to hide his reaction from her.

It really was probably a good thing that they hadn't ended up giving the stableboys Mother clearly had spying for her a _real_ show.

"You'll properly introduce me to your Lord Berenger one of these days, won't you?" Mother prodded.

"He's a relatively high-ranked Lord, and has been Auguste's friend for years. You've met him dozens of times," Laurent pointed out. 

Mother didn't say anything. She just stared at Laurent expectantly.

Laurent sighed. "Yes Mother."

Well. Berenger had waited a year for him. Hopefully that kind of perseverance meant that going through whatever Queen Hennike might consider a 'proper introduction' to her son's suitor wouldn't be enough to scare Berenger away.

Berenger smiled fondly at Laurent when Laurent broke away from Mother and took his seat. It was the first time Laurent had ever seen Berenger visibly happy in this room, among these people who Berenger had to know would pick up on the display of emotion and make him the topic of gossip because of it. Berenger didn't enjoy gossip in the slightest, Laurent knew, especially when he was the focus of it. But apparently Berenger didn't care enough about any of that to hide his feelings away right then, with Laurent.

No, Laurent decided, he didn't think he needed to worry about Berenger being driven away from him, no matter what Mother had in mind. Not when he looked at Laurent like that.


End file.
